


The Art of Murder (Among Other Things)

by AlexFierro



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Murder, Pre-Canon, Stabbing, Torture, for now i have for you, fun stuff!, graphic violence is not actually that graphic, hey so here we are, ill have warnings for each chapter, its gonna be kinda au-ish if you squint, ive had this idea for a while? yeah?, maybe if you just wear reading glasses actually, stay safe and dont trigger yourself, tags will be added as needed but yknow, the rating can and will go up, tooth extraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFierro/pseuds/AlexFierro
Summary: Owning an illegal lab in his basement isn't enough for him anymore—Sano wants to actuallyusehis equipment. Luckily for him, Akira has connections. Strade isn't the ideal provider or partner in crime, but he's all Sano has for now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i can justify every single action made in this fic and explain how it makes sense. i really can. dont test me.
> 
> you may think to yourself, "gee alyx, that's ooc for them there snake boys!" well, dear reader, if you want to make this complaint, youre going have to come back in two years (when im 20) and if im exactly the same then youre valid in your critique! two years is plenty of time for someone my age to change, and them there snake boys happen to me my age in this
> 
> hopefully i can update this weekly but were just gonna have to see about this
> 
>    
>  **tw: alcohol use (just a couple mentions, and a mention of being drunk)**

Stolen lab equipment, and lab equipment acquired through means that weren’t quite illegal but still extremely shady, was no good unless there was someone to use the equipment _on_. Just having it wasn’t enough anymore. For all the help Sano had asked his brother for, he asked for even more. Sano didn’t have the connections his brother had. Requesting another favor was the only option he could see.

His intentions of actual experimentation would have to wait until his prerequisites were over. It would be hard managing test subjects, dead bodies, and extra stress when he needed to keep finals in mind. The school year would be over soon—just one more week. He would be on his way to medical school in the fall.

Organic chemistry wasn’t difficult and physics was a breeze. He only had two courses before he could continue on, but finals were hyped up. He didn’t _need_ to study and he didn’t _need_ to keep his schedule from filling up until he got through pre-reqs, but he’d always been an academic overachiever.

Perhaps it was that nature of his that made him interested in human test subjects. It was wildly illegal on more than one level, but he’d studied ahead through multiple years of medical school. Aside from the occasional snag here and there, things that were difficult to remember or concepts he had a hard time understanding, he could explain whatever information he was asked about with almost flawless fluency.

He was _tired_ now. Rereading passages in his chemistry textbook held his attention well enough and kept him reasonably awake, and copying down practice equations to solve them over and over with mechanical ease wasn’t something that bored him like it would others. His methods in solving every possible problem needed to be perfect. Plus, some of the questions in the textbook were put on tests, but they were ones most the class looked over—things like few odd-numbered ones from a page used for homework, but from one where only the even-numbered problems were assigned.

He did them _all_ , repeatedly.

When studying was over, it wasn’t particularly late, but he still needed rest. He yawned and closed the textbook, pushing his chair away from his desk. He took his glasses off, set them on his shut laptop, and rubbed his eyes.

_9:54pm_

Food hadn’t sounded half bad about an hour ago, but he ignored the idea and kept going. At this point, he didn’t want to be up any longer.

There was a forceful knock at the door, and one of his hands jerked up. His instinct was to cover his ears, but it would have done no good now.

Before he could respond, his door swung open. “Hey, so, I got to thinking something.”

“You could have asked permission before you entered.”

Akira shrugged and continued. “So about the _testing_ thing. I did you a favor. Now, I _know_ what you said about wanting to finish your pre-reqs, but I know someone _so perfect_.”

Sano was aware he was the one who asked for a way to get his hands on human test subjects, but it felt too late for this.

“Are you even hearing what I’m saying? This is what you’ve been wanting!”

“Test subjects,” Sano repeated. “I heard that. Do you have a name or face for me?”

“Well…” Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping you could trust me a little bit. Tomorrow is Friday, so I thought you could come out to a bar to meet him.”

Sano furrowed his eyebrows. “He wants to meet publicly? At a bar? I’m not discussing illegal plans out in the open like that.”

“I expected as much.” He said it was a slight annoyance. It wasn’t at Sano’s statement, rather what rules came about from Sano’s extra caution, rules he must have been reminded of. “I’m not even allowed to have—”

The older of the two let out an impatient huff. “Do not even _say_ its name in the confines of my room.”

“She deserves better.”

“ _She_ is an _it_. No, it doesn’t.”

_God damn Echo. Fuck Amazon._

Akira made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Whatever she is, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to meet him. He said he can show you his killing methods, too, if you wanted.”

That piqued Sano’s interest. Someone showing him other methods? He doubted this mystery man’s methods would be as refined as his own were _going_ to be. Maybe, if it came down to direct murder, this person could give Sano the basis he needed, if he wanted to go about murdering like a regular human being would.

After a moment, Sano nodded. “I’d like to see what he has to offer.”

With a laugh, Akira shrugged. “I wouldn’t be too hopeful. There’s not a lot to look forward to. Not for you, at least.”

“Is he inexperienced?”

“Oh, _anything_ but. He’s been doing this for _years_.”

Someone who truly had been up to kidnapping and murder for years would have to be interesting. He would know the best ways to avoid making messes, and he’d be careful with his victims… If he liked to play with them, Sano could learn from that as well. People didn’t keep up abduction and killing too long unless they were careful about what they were doing.

His gaze went a little foggy for a second and he rubbed his eyes again. “I’ll go tomorrow, but I’m not taking any subjects until pre-reqs are over.”

Akira grinned and nodded. “For now, get some sleep. Don’t overwork yourself at school tomorrow.”

“Since when are you concerned about that? And since when do I ever overwork myself in the first place?”

“Oh, you know. You can’t come out with us if you do. It’s the end of the year. Finals are next week.”

Sano rolled his eyes. “I’m _aware_ finals are next week. I’m going to be the one taking them.”

“You know what I mean. I wouldn’t want you having to bail on us tomorrow.” He grabbed the doorknob to pull it closed. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“Goodnight, Akira.”

“Night.”

When the door was shut, it left the room comfortably quiet again. Sano sighed and stood up and walked to his bed, sitting down there instead. He _really_ should have been getting ready for bed, but the more he thought on it, the more he realized his head kind of hurt and his body felt a bit heavy.

A start before noon and no naps did that to him without fail. He fell back and closed his eyes. He was pretty sure he should at least turn his light off.

_But it wouldn’t make a difference, so what does it matter?_

* * *

Sano’s alarm went off at eleven thirty. Noon courses helped a lot with feelings of productivity while ensuring he could get in the sleep he needed, which was exactly why he chose the twelve o’clock class for physics and twelve fifteen class for chemistry.

He went to bed before eleven on school nights, got up at half past eleven in the morning, and rarely got out of class any later than a quarter past two. He had the rest of the day to do whatever he wanted, and to him it felt like plenty of time to fit in what he needed. He could generally skip eating for a few days at a time, so a need for food didn’t often take time out of his day.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he turned his alarm off. He pushed himself up, stretched, and yawned. It was a feeling of vague annoyance that came to his mind when he recalled he’d be going to a bar that night.

Hanging out at clubs on Fridays was a fairly common occurrence since winter break of that school year. Akira threw out his fake ID on the midnight marking the first minute of the last Halloween, stopped going to neighboring cities for clubbing, and found a place—The Snake Pit—in their own city. Over winter break, Sano was particularly prone to curling up under a blanket and not leaving his bed for any reason other than to sometimes use the bathroom. Akira found this concerning and insisted his brother come with him to the club he liked going to. Sano begrudgingly complied, but quickly found it was something he wouldn’t mind doing once every few weekends.

But he didn’t do _bars_. The associated them with yelling, people screaming at whatever sports were being played on the TVs the building had, and the more-than-occasional event of someone getting drunk enough to puke up their guts. Granted, The Snake Pit had loud music that made Sano’s stomach churn for the first half an hour or so he was there the first time and people did talk with raised voices—but it was nothing compared to the connotations that bars had in his mind.

Trying to push aside his reservations on the subject, Sano took the outfit he was going to be wearing and headed to the bathroom. Akira was usually already up and gone by the time Sano was getting ready for class.

His eyes were always foggy until he woke up a bit more, so he kept rubbing at them. He yawned a few times, one right after the other. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t get up at all before noon most days, but his studies were important.

Today, he suspected, the lecture would drag on. Part of him wished it was a lab day, but another part reasoned that he might be too unmotivated to get one properly done. He was the one in his assigned group who did most the work, and the grade for his labs depended almost solely on himself. To lose focus on the task or to not give it his best effort was to set himself up for failure.

* * *

As expected, class never seemed to end. An hour and fifteen minutes of a subject he usually thought was very interesting made him want to put his head down on his desk and zone out until it was over. It felt like an eternity, but he still found himself filling his notebook with more notes and raising his hand to answer whatever questions the teacher had.

The end didn’t come soon enough, and he gave a small, relieved sigh as he returned all his things to his bag and stood up.

“Mr. Kojima?” His teacher never used first names for her students. She said it felt too informal while her class was addressing her as anyone was expected to address a teacher.

Sano looked up at her. He wanted to go home. “Yes?”

“Can I keep you after class?”

He grit his teeth as he heard a couple of his classmates make a hushed comment about it and laugh quietly. Words were weapons he knew how to use, and for a while he _did_ use them. There was a small group who didn’t like him. Maybe it was because he was the height of overachiever tendencies when it came to the class, or because he was undeniably smarter than they were. Whatever it was, they seemed to take it as a personal attack that he was the most capable student there.

_I’m still younger than you all by at least a year. At the beginning of first semester, you were still in high school when you were my age. You don’t like thinking about that, do you?_ He didn’t say that much anymore, but he wanted to. It was fun watching their frustration as he pointed out that he was better than them earlier on in life. Everyone needed to be brought down to reality every once in a while, and the simple fact was that he was _better_ at this than they were. Medical school would favor him far more. Having taken every extra credit opportunity gave him a perfect 100% in the class.

His jaw loosened within seconds and approached the teacher’s desk. “What do you need?”

The teacher looked at the students still in the class and made a vague motion to the door. “It’s time for you all to leave. If you need to speak with me, I can be with you in a moment.”

Sano held the strap of his messenger bag as the silence was held between him and his professor. He didn’t know what trouble he’d gotten into, but God help him if he found out his brother decided to make another visit to the college.

_Mr. Kojima, do you think you can get him under control? He’s too rowdy and we can’t figure out why he’s here._

It was because he was bored. That was his only excuse. He went to the main office, speaking at a volume too high for being inside most buildings, let alone one that was a professional environment, because he was bored and wanted to see how easily he could convince them to tell Sano he was there to pay a visit. He had no real motive and should have been more content sitting by himself at home or trying to do something productive.

“Is this about Akira?” Sano asked, the door shutting behind the last student. “I don’t have any idea why he’s here again and I don’t really care, but—”

“It’s not about Akira,” the professor interrupted. “This is about _you_. Are you feeling okay?”

She had no way of knowing, but that was still about Akira in a way. “I’m fine. I’ve just been preoccupied. I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.”

“What inconvenience when you’re still focused on school? Look, Mr. Kojima.” She crossed her arms. When she made eye contact, he wanted to avert his gaze. He held still, however, allowing her eyes to remain met with his. “I don’t want to pry into things, so I won’t. You’re able to come to me with anything, on a first-name basis if it would make you more comfortable, but I know you’re the more private type. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

He shook his head, trying to look indifferent. “It’s nothing.”

“You have enough extra credit to keep your grade perfect if you can’t get today’s homework finished.”

Sano shook his head again. “It’s the last assignment before finals. I can get it done.” He had a small sense of doubt that awoke with that. He didn’t want to skip it in favor of starting to learn the art of murder and abduction, but it was hard to make a decision. He would need to schedule in cleanup, getting to know his potential partner in crime, resting, showering, and at least one properly-sized meal in addition to the actual murder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“My brother is taking me out somewhere and it’s getting my nerves wound up. That’s all.”

The teacher looked satisfied with that answer. “I’m sure it’ll go fine. Get enough sleep tonight and do your best with your work.”

“I’ll be on my way, then.”

He used a regular pace, but couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, now _more_ eager to get home. He didn’t want to talk about it any further, and he didn’t appreciate the teacher’s attempts. It didn’t take long for others to tell Sano preferred to avoid the subject of his personal life and wasn’t one for confiding in others.

* * *

“Are you ready?” Akira asked. His voice was too loud.

Sano rubbed his eyes and sat up. He’d fallen asleep on the couch. “I don’t know if _ready_ is the right word.”

“Come _on_.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to go anymore, what with homework, the fact he needed to wait to do anything himself until finals were over, and how he _really_ didn’t want to go to a bar of all places.

Akira must have seen his inner conflict, because he assuredly said, “Trust me, it’s nice for being a bar. I’m not really one to go to those places either, but it’s not bad.”

That helped quell some of his misgivings, making him more willing to get up and head out.

* * *

It was true—the place was nice enough. There weren’t many people and there weren’t any TVs on to get people riled up.

“Strade!” Akira called, making a dramatic waving motion to one of the men at the counter. He grabbed Sano’s wrist and pulled him over to where the man in question was sitting.

Sano couldn’t believe this person was who Akira made an arrangement with. If he killed people, he looked like he’d bust someone’s head against a wall and leave them lying on the ground with a fatal concussion, or with their skull completely broken open. Or maybe he’d attack in a dark alley and knife someone to death.

_He’s been up to this for years,_ Sano reminded himself. _He has to be more careful than that. His appearance is just…not what to expect from someone like him._

Strade grinned brightly at the two of them. “ _Hallo_ ,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Not too long, I hope,” Akira said, sitting on one side of Strade. He motioned for Sano to sit on the other side, likely because it would make conversation easier. The other was extremely hesitant to take a seat, but he did anyway.

“ _Nein_ , not at all.” He had a fairly thick German accent. “Sano? It’s nice to meet you.”

Sano was having more misgivings than before, but he hoped it didn’t show. “The same to you,” he said as politely as he could. “I’ve heard things about you.”

“All good, I expect?” Strade laughed, and he seemed like a genuinely nice person. In the context of being a surefire murderer, Sano’s previous impression of him remained. However, judging him as the person he seemed like, he gave the image of someone who was kind, playful, and full of positive energy.

He didn’t have any place being fooled, though. Even those perceived as perfectly innocent could be capable of brutality. “More or less.”

The bartender moved to where the three were sitting. “Can I get you two boys something?”

“Yeah, I want a soda.”

He didn’t seem surprised to be taking the order of a nonalcoholic drink. “What kind?”

“The dark kind. Surprise me.”

The man behind the counter nodded then looked at Sano. “Anything for you, sir?”

He wasn’t sure of what he wanted, but after a moment’s thought, he shrugged. “Sprite.”

“We have ginger ale and Mountain Dew.” How he made the jump from Sprite to Mountain Dew was unclear.

“Ginger ale.”

When the bartender moved to get the boys’ drinks, Strade gave a small chuckle. “They have something for almost everyone. I’m a little surprised by how young you are.”

“I was expecting someone younger myself,” Sano said. “What a coincidence.”

Strade cocked an eyebrow. “Someone younger? What age were you expecting?”

Sano hadn’t given it thought, but looking at Strade, he could say with confidence he wasn’t expecting someone that old. “Late twenties, maybe. Mid, if you were particularly ambitious.”

With a laugh, Strade shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. I actually would have assumed you were in your mid-twenties yourself, if not for seeing you here.”

Some might find that slightly patronizing, Sano supposed, a remark on how young they were. But if he was expected to be over five years older than he actually was, it was a compliment to be told that.

“Well, I’m eighteen.”

“That’s fourteen years I have on you,” Strade remarked.

Sano furrowed his eyebrows at that. Strade looked a little older than that. Still, age didn’t really matter when it came to becoming partners in crime. He’d prefer a more orderly, better kept person to his provider and mentor of sorts, but this was only a starting point. It wouldn’t matter once Sano had learned the ropes and could support himself in what he wanted to do.

It wouldn’t be out of the question for Akira to bring him victims as well, but he would work with Strade as long as he could manage it. He didn’t want to, because Strade looked sloppily dressed, presented himself without much visible dignity, and smelled like he’d just spent the past five hours doing vehicle maintenance in a hot garage, but he would do what he had to.

The drinks came around, and Sano flashed a very small smile as he thanked the bartender. Then his attention went back to Strade.

“I _could_ have you address me as a mentor, that being the case…” Strade mused. His expression of mock contemplation only lasted a few seconds before it cracked back into a wide grin when he saw Sano’s expression shift. “I’m joking. We’re going to be partners. Ages don’t matter here.”

“The way you said that sounds almost criminal,” Sano remarked.

Strade laughed. Sano could already tell he was the type to laugh at a lot of things.

“You were thinking it,” Akira said. “Don’t tell me you weren’t. I always thought you liked to be seen as an equal to people who are older. Or a superior.”

“My thoughts on it were in a much duller tone,” he informed his brother.

Strade drained the last of his beer and pushed his glass out, loudly requesting a refill. Maybe that was why he was acting like he was. It was likely he was drunk. “We’re all adults here, aren’t we? I had no idea you existed until recently!”

“So you’re not denying possible attraction to me?”

That had Akira hitting the countertop with a small and laugh. “Either you need to loosen up or you’re making your ego bigger than it needs to be.”

Sano sighed and shook his head. “I don’t see how I could be seen in the wrong here. And if we’re talking egos, I still haven’t reached your levels.”

“You aren’t. Not _necessarily_.” He completely ignored the second part of what his brother said.

He was messing around, but everything had wound Sano up. He didn’t like Strade, he didn’t like the bar, and he wanted to go home. He never considered himself a sensitive person by any means, but the reality of what was going on washed over him more powerfully than before. Human lives were trivial in his own mind, but he was going to watch one be murdered that very night. He didn’t know how Strade would go about it, but he knew it was going to happen.

_Strade is going to kill a human for me._ It was the only thought he could muster at the time. It was making his head hurt. The room tilted the way it did when the effects of alcohol hit him quickly all at once, but with none of the floaty, drunken feeling that always came with it.

His hand slammed the counter hard, and his palm stung slightly. He realized he had been about to fall over, and he felt heat rise to his face. It was a bit embarrassing to be caught in a moment of weakness, so he quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom.

It was only a brief dizziness. The world was no longer displaced and he walked a straight line to the bathroom.

This was happening. It was _actually_ happening.

Nothing felt off as he stood against the wall. The bathroom was empty save for him. There was no rush or pressure to force casualness. It would be hard to act _casual_ when his mind was focused on how he was going to watch a murder unfold in front of him.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t long before he was heading back out again. Strade and Akira were chatting amiably, but Akira immediately waved and beamed as Sano left the bathroom. His brother’s excitement at it was either unnecessary or indicated something Sano wasn’t going to like. He hoped it was the former.

“Are you feeling okay?” Strade asked. He was smiling still, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

Sano wondered what answer he would get if he asked what Strade had been doing before he came out here. He couldn’t say he’d been busy kidnapping someone to put on a display for a new acquaintance he hadn’t yet met at the time. He would probably say he was working on a car. Maybe he was a mechanic and was doing his job after he’d gotten a victim.

Or perhaps he just bathed in engine oil, because clearly his hair wasn’t getting washed properly.

“Fine,” Sano said, trying to eliminate any questions in his mind. “Just feeling a bit strange for a moment.”

Strade’s eyebrows knitted for a moment before he looked brightly at the younger man again. “If you say so. I wouldn’t want you getting sick tonight.”

“Yeah,” Akira added, leaning forward to look at his brother. “You hear that? You’ve gotta be feeling fine for tonight.”

He knew it wouldn’t hint at anything shady to anyone who might be overhearing the conversation, but regardless, it didn’t seem like Strade and Akira were being careful enough with their words. Being cryptic about it _would_ be suspicious, so maybe it was best not to talk about it at all. Sano was always extra cautious and careful by nature, however, and he knew it was needless worry.

“I _know_ that,” Sano replies. Under his breath, he mumbles, “Feeling fine for the long night ahead…”

Curiosity crosses Strade’s face. “That’s right—Akira mentioned school. I’m not taking you away from your studies, am I?”

“Not exactly.”

“Good! Then we really do have all night.” Was this man capable of not looking overly chipper for longer than five minutes? How drunk was he?

How long would it take? Was Strade one for torture?

Sano wondered if _he’d_ be one for it. He didn’t know for sure. Torturing someone for experimentation was much different than torturing someone for fun. One was educational and interesting, the other was purely harsh.

The crimes full-blooded humans could commit against each other were so brutal, but he liked thinking about it. Corrupt morals and barbaric motives were something fun to contemplate. What would put a _human_ in that mindset? Sano was only _halfway_ human, but he supposed that wasn’t a way to explain away the cruelty within himself.

“We do,” Sano agreed.

“Trust me,” Akira said. “This guy is _great_. He’s fun. Not your kind of fun, but still _really_ fun.”

That felt like such a dangerous thing to say. How were people supposed to take it? Was Sano just being paranoid?

“You make it sound sexual,” Sano muttered.

His brother laughed. “I mean, if you _really_ wanted, I think…”

“No pressure,” Strade said, “but he’s right. My plans for tonight… They almost always end with me a little heated.”

Oh, great. Murder wasn’t something that turned Sano on, and he didn’t understand how it could get anyone going. It didn’t seem like something that could be made erotic. To each his own, but was someone with a murder kink really the best Akira could get for him? But maybe it wouldn’t be an obvious thing, and maybe he wouldn’t let it show around Sano. He hoped that wasn’t too much to ask for.

“I’m going to have to shoot you down.”

Strade chuckled. “Whatever suits you best.”

“My brother’s not going to hand his—” Akira began.

“Quiet,” Sano snapped, because talking about how and with whom he would consider having sex with wasn’t any of Strade’s business. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. More calmly, he added, “That’s not relevant or important.”

“Well, it’s _kinda_ relevant.”

The brunet cocked an eyebrow. He looked curious again, but his curiosity now didn’t need to be sated. The anticipated comment never came, however. “We should be going soon.”

Sano looked down at his drink. It only had a few swallows taken out of it. “Right now, that sounds like a waste of money.”

“Then I’ll pay and drink it for you,” Akira offered.

“Are you sure you want to stay here longer?” Sano asked.

Akira shrugged. “It’s a bar, so I think I should get _someone_ to fuck.”

“If it’s our place, keep it in your pants until you’re in _your room_.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not that irresponsible.”

That was a lie, but Sano didn’t argue.

Strade chugged the rest of his beer, an action that made Sano’s stomach churn just watching, and set the glass back down on the counter a bit harder than necessary. He pulled out his wallet, put forty down, and stood up. “Ready to go?”

Sano slid his glass over to his brother and got up as well. It was nearly nine, and the night was only beginning.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is starting and i really need to get my act together and be more serious (again) on my more professional manuscript. this is a lot of fun to write, there are creative liberties to be taken and experimenting to do, but certain things must always take priority!
> 
> **tw for this chapter: alcohol mentions, mentions of being drunk, rape threats, tooth extraction, gore, stabbing, a bunch of fun stuff! also, police mentions**

There was something concerning about how Strade went directly to the driver’s side of his car. How was he supposed to drive? Wasn’t he drunk?

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Sano said, also going around to where Strade was about to get in. “I can drive.”

Strade raised his eyebrows. “Can you? Do you know how to drive stick?”

The younger man paused, then faltered. He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t, but he never thought he’d have to. It seemed complicated, and he already wasn’t big on extra challenges when it came to driving. “…I can’t. We can call an Uber or something.”

The brunet laughed. Why was everything so funny to him, and what was amusing about _this_? “I don’t think so. I don’t like giving out my address to people. Surely you can understand that.”

“We can get dropped off a couple streets away.”

Strade shrugged and opened his door, getting into the vehicle. “Let’s go. I’m not even drunk.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I’m always like this. It takes a lot more to do that.”

Skeptical as he was, Sano gave in and took the passenger’s side. He could get through a crash fine enough, and it wasn’t _his_ insurance that would be taking a hit. If this man wanted to play it recklessly, that sat okay with Sano.

Strade shot a grin to the other as he shifted into reverse and started backing out of the parking spot. “So what else were you expecting?”

What else _was_ he expecting? He hadn’t set up many standards inside of his head. His initial idea was to keep expectations out of mind because they weren’t important. Whoever he met up with was who he got, and it was still true, but he was realizing Strade _wasn’t_ who he was prepared to see.

“Someone more well-kept,” Sano said finally. He was pretty sure his chaperone should have been paying more attention to the road. “You’re also smaller than I would have anticipated.”

“Are you calling me short?”

“You’re around average height, but I associate the idea of murderers with…” He wasn’t sure what word he was looking for. He almost said _with more physical power_ , but if Sano had been human, he was pretty sure Strade would be able to best him in a fight.

How he trailed off didn’t go unnoticed. “With?”

Slight embarrassment sparked in Sano’s mind, but it was quickly shoved aside. It wasn’t like him to lose his words or fail to put them together right. “It doesn’t matter.”

The older man looked like he might press further, the gaze that should be fixed more on the road looking at Sano with a questioning spark. His eyes returned to what was in front of the car after a dangerous few seconds. “If you say so. I didn’t think much on _who_ you might be, but a lab coat and glasses wouldn’t look out of place on you.”

“I’m not even in med school yet,” Sano pointed out. “And I do wear glasses, but they’re for smaller details, and to make reading easier.”

Strade shrugged. “In med school or not, it would suit you. You should have at least brought your glasses with you.”

“I _did_ bring them, just in case. I’ll wear them if I need to. It messes with my eyes when I wear them outside to look further than the confines of my basement.”

“Well, I’ll be taking you down to _my_ basement.”

Sano didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He almost wondered if Strade had a thing for glasses. Even if that were the case, what did it matter if Sano wore them or not? He was aware he’d always looked a little older than he actually was, but he seemed a bit young to be an object of interest for Strade.

He was a soon-to-be-murderer _and_ technically an adult, so maybe there were exceptions. But he didn’t like the word _murderer_. It sounded barbaric to him. He was a scientist. It just so happened he was going to be taking lives in the name of science. He thought about it like that, and he hated any sort of wording aside from that he was _killing_ them. The wording that he was _murdering_ held connotations he didn’t like, and even _killer_ was a term that had him mentally recoiling to some degree.

He would only be experimenting. He would define himself based on what he learned and the things he had fun getting a closer look at rather than on the people who died. People died in the care of doctors, and that was a simple fact. People also died on experimental drugs or because there were complications in certain procedures. Doctors who have patients that die under their care aren’t deemed murderers, and Sano didn’t like it applied to him either.

Doctors also had proper degrees, licensing, and codes of conduct that prevented them from experimenting however they wanted, all things to be considered when making the distinction between full-fledged doctors and the man still completing his prerequisites for medical school, but they usually seemed irrelevant in Sano’s mind.

“What are you thinking about?” Strade asked.

Sano hadn’t realized his expression was one of contemplation, but he wondered how it would have been picked up on in the first place, as he was staring off into space in the direction of his window. “Nothing, really.”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going back on this. There’s nothing quite like murder to get your blood pumping.”

Sano almost corrected the use of the word, but no amount of correction would make things okay. He didn’t like it, but it didn’t justify his actions. He knew what he was going to do would make him morally corrupt. The fact he hadn’t already called the police on Strade was proof of that on its own.

“I’ll be the judge of that myself,” Sano said. “No one is dying by my hands for at least another week.”

“You should at least get involved here. I have some tools, a nice collection of knives. I think you’ll find anything you would want.”

Sano didn’t say it, but he was entirely sure he _wouldn’t_. He didn’t want to fill someone with holes from a nail gun or break their head open with a hammer. The only tool he could find himself liking the idea of was a screwdriver, but that wasn’t going to do him any good. Certain tools and measures of precision were needed for a lobotomy, regardless of how unrefined the technique of it was.

“You really _are_ thinking about backing out,” Strade said.

“Eyes on the road,” Sano said that time. If someone looked at their passenger, their phone, or the radio more than Akira did, it meant they were doing it _far_ too much. “I’m not going to back out.”

“You’re allowed to. I wouldn’t do anything about it. I don’t think you’d let anything slip out.”

Sano didn’t like the surety in the tone when Strade said he would let the other back out. He wouldn’t have a _choice_.

He told himself to keep anything threatening to himself, but he couldn’t help saying it. “I’d wish you luck in trying to stop me.”

That made Strade laugh, but at least that time he didn’t avert his gaze from where it belonged. “You seem confident.”

“Because I am. But I’m going to see this all the way through. Your methods just seem…very crude.”

“Crude? What are your standards?”

“I’m going to be a doctor. Do you think I’m going to be using _your_ set of tools to do what I want to?”

“I’m no doctor, and it’s the best you’re getting. Just keep an open mind for now.”

Sano wasn’t sure he could do that. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes came to rest on the gear shift. He didn’t actually know how stick shift _worked_. He could appreciate intricacy, as is necessary of someone so fascinated by the human body, but he knew how easy elaborate machines could malfunction. His entire future career would be entirely dependent on things inevitably going wrong with people. The more pieces and processes something had, the more ways it could go wrong. Operating an automatic would be less risky than driving shift.

When Strade shifted again, making a wide turn into the beginning of a neighborhood, he caught the other watching his movements. “Interesting?”

“I’ve driven with Akira when we still had a car like this,” Sano said. “I don’t know how the gears work. It doesn’t seem necessary.”

Strade shrugged. “Maybe it’s not! But it’s a challenge. You have to know how to shift, _when_ to shift, how much gas to give it. If you mess up, the car dies, and you have to be willing to risk that.”

“It seems like more trouble than it’s worth. What if it dies and you get rear-ended?”

“Then the person behind you better have good insurance. Haven’t you ever heard that rule? _If you get rear-ended, it’s always the other person’s fault._ They have to cover it. Besides, no one’s ever run into _me_ when I’ve killed the car.”

That still didn’t seem to make it worth it. Why risk the car at all?

“Fewer people can steal it, too,” Strade added, as though having a stolen car was a common concern. “I haven’t met many people who know how to operate a stick.”

He pulled into the driveway of a nice-looking house and the two got out. There was another already there, with window tint making the windows completely opaque in the lights of the neighboring porches.

“What do you think?” Strade asked.

“I think it’s a nice place,” Sano said absently as he followed the other two the front door.

When the door shut behind them, the first thing Sano noticed was the complete quietness. The second thing he noticed was a light shining upstairs. It wasn’t in his field of vision, but he could still see the yellowish glow.

“You’ll waste electricity like that,” Sano pointed out.

Strade furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, but found what was being referenced. “I was excited for tonight. I must have gotten careless.”

That didn’t sit well with Sano, but he said nothing else as he followed the older man through to the kitchen.

The kitchen was where he could start hearing screams from the basement level. It sounded like they were gagged, which made Sano wonder how long they’d been without water. It was dangerous to go around allowing captives the use of their hands, so it would be in a captive’s best interest to be quiet and behave until there was a chance to fight back. Most people didn’t naturally think logically when they were being held prisoner, but a disregard for logic could always earn Sano’s disdain. He could barely watch characters act too irrationally without getting annoyed about it, and when it came to real people, it could be much worse.

“Do you want something to drink?” Strade asked, pulling the refrigerator open.

“Water?” Sano requested.

The brunet rummaged around and pulled out two bottles: a bottle of beer for himself and a bottle of water for his guest. He didn’t wait for a thanks as he continued on to the basement door. “Shall we?”

“This should be just like eating cold porridge,” Sano muttered.

“At least I’m not talking around it hot.”

“What was that?”

“ _Sig-eun jug meoggi,”_ Strade said. As he spoke, there was no trace of his German accent. “ _Like eating cold porridge._ Linguistics and idioms can be fun, and Akira shares some with me. Do you speak Korean as well?”

Sano shook his head. “No, I’ve focused on studying other things. I speak Japanese well, though. For this, I’d say _asameshimae_ —I’ll do it before breakfast. Piece of cake. Personally, I don’t see what’s easy about eating cold porridge.” Sano paused for a brief moment. “What was that about it being hot?”

“In German, there’s a saying: _um den heißen Brei herumreden._ As it translates literally, _to talk around hot porridge_. It means to beat around the bush.”

It seemed like a person would be more inclined to try _speaking around it_ while it was cold. Actually, Sano would prefer to spit it out if it was cold, and he certainly wouldn’t want to _eat_ it. That sounded disgusting. Swallowing it hot would be much easier and it would taste better.

He didn’t say any of that as Strade opened the basement door. The screaming stopped immediately, becoming only frantic, panicked breathing. Deciding to put on his glasses without being prompted to, Sano tucked his drink under one of his arms and got out the black case.

Strade smiled cheerfully at his prisoner before using a flathead to pop the cap of his beer off. The way he held it up, a display that seemed nonthreatening to Sano, must have registered as a danger. The woman tied up thrashed until Strade lowered it.

“Are you ready to have some fun?” The older man downed a mouthful of beer and set the bottle down on the counter. “I was _considering_ letting you go, after how good you seem to be. And you look just as you did when I left. Really, you did a good job. But you made two mistakes.” He got down in front of the woman and took the gag out. “Can you tell me what they were?”

She looked up at him desperately, trying to pull any answer from her mind, but she seemed to have nothing. Her eyes were tearing up and she turned her attention to Sano pleadingly. “Please, h-help…”

Sano said nothing. He could tell her he was there to watch her die, and he was the main reason she had been caught and locked up here. He could tell her he didn’t approve of Strade’s methods but was going to watch them anyway because he wanted to know the feeling it would give him and what it would look like. He could have told her he would have preferred to get his hands on her himself so he could pump her full of drugs and cut her open as he saw fit.

He said none of those things. His gaze remained icy as she met it, and she gave up on the hope quickly.

“Looking at him isn’t going to give you both of the answers,” Strade mused, “but it could give you one.”

She then glared at Sano and jerked at the ropes binding her wrists. “You _monster_! You set this up?! Were you afraid to get your hands dirty with—”

Her outburst was cut short as one of Strade’s hands closed around her throat and pinned her to the surface behind her. She choked and thrashed again, but soon went still in a silent plea for her life.

“Mind your manners,” Strade chided lightly, letting go. “Why are you making this harder? And _why_ are you accusing him? It was someone else who arranged this. He’s just along for the ride. He motivated me to take you prisoner, but he never _asked_ me to do this.”

The prisoner swallowed thickly, letting out a painful wheeze as she adjusted her position. “Then…what’s the other reason?”

“Don’t say any names,” Strade warned as he stood up. “In fact, I might cut your tongue out if you’re not careful.” He went over to the counter and picked up a book from it. Sano couldn’t see exactly what it was when he held it up, but there was an illustration on the front. “This. You know too much.”

“That was there when you left! It’s been here the whole time!”

_What is it?_ Sano wondered.

Strade shook his head disapprovingly. “I don’t think so. I don’t read comics, and I certainly wouldn’t have left one down here. I don’t touch them.” He set the book back down, pulled out a knife and knelt down in front of his captive. “How much did you see?”

“It wasn’t—”

Strade roughly grabbed her jaw and shoved the blade in her mouth. She would have been still if not for her trembling and quick breathing. “I forgot. I shouldn’t have asked.” He pushed the knife down and the captive whined, but didn’t react as violently as before. He pulled it back and a mix of saliva and blood thinly connected the weapon to her mouth for a second before it broke. “Simply put? I feel like you saw too much.”

“I’ll tell if you don’t spare me,” she gasped.

“Tell who?” Strade cocked his head, looking truly interested. “You’ll tell him? It won’t matter. It’ll just be inconvenient. _He_ isn’t going to be telling the authorities. If you don’t want me feeding you to—”

“As if he could eat anyone,” the woman cut him off. She tried to sound confident, but her voice faltered. The placement of her tongue was one she managed carefully, and the blood trailing from her lips suggested she was cut deep. “I saw him…”

Strade laughed. He ran a thumb over her bottom lip, seeming impressed as she tried to bite at him, and licked up the blood. “I wouldn’t be so sure of his capabilities if I were you.” He looked up at Sano. “Doctor, some pliers?”

Sano set his water down and retrieved a small pair from beside the tool bag, pushing back the question of who could have come down to the basement while the owner of the house was out. Maybe he was trying to appease Sano’s medical-related interests, but doing that would take a lot more than wrenching out a few teeth with a dirty contraption. It would probably taste like dirt and oil, and likely the only time they’d been able to pass as clean was when they were packaged up to be sold.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Strade said cheerfully. “I can either trust you not to bite me, _or_ you can go ahead and bite me and force me to use a less pleasant method of keeping your mouth open. How does that sound?”

The woman said nothing as Strade adjusted his grip on the pliers. “See, using my fingers is fun when I want to rip out teeth.” He jammed the tool in her mouth as he used his other hand to keep her jaws forced apart. There was a dull click as the metal closed around bone. “Unfortunately, that’s not a certified medical practice. If you need a tooth removed, a professional is going to shove something like this in there and yank it out.”

“It’s going to be properly sterilized beforehand, however, and the object could only have _ever_ been used for medical practices,” Sano said.

Sano almost jerked back when Strade tugged at his wrist. Bloody saliva marked his sleeve slightly, and Strade’s hand went back to holding the woman’s mouth open. “Get down,” the brunet said. “I’m going this for you.”

He did as he was told, but it was a big difficult to see what was going on even as Strade tried to scoot out of his way. Blood worked to obscure his view, but he could tell the pliers were gripping one of the lower left molars toward the front.

“Here we go!” Strade announced cheerfully, and he pulled. The tooth ripped from the socket and the woman screamed. It was hard to tell it _was_ a tooth, completely covered in and dripping with crimson. He set it down and asked Sano, “Next choices are yours. You can pull the next one, too, if you want.”

Sano wanted to know what it would feel like to do it himself, but he held back. He wanted to know what it would feel like extracting a tooth the _correct_ way. It would get in the way if he did it here. “Go ahead. Take the top canines.”

Pleased by the request, Strade got back to work. Two more violent jerks and the canines were out, resting beside the first extraction.

“Any other requests?”

“You’re really not careful about this, are you?”

“I haven’t been caught yet.” He set his tool down and let her jaw go. When he patted her cheek, he left small traces of blood against her skin. “Don’t swallow. It’ll make you sick.”

She heeded his warning and didn’t. Her mouth stayed open and blood kept spilling down her chin and onto her shirt.

“You’re fun,” he praised. “What do you think we should do to her next? Jane Doe can last all night if we want her to, but Akira told me you get tired easily.”

Usually he did, but this was interesting. He wasn’t a psychologist, but he liked watching her react. He didn’t think this would be so fascinating, but it was. It wasn’t anything compared to how it would be to _experiment_ , but it wasn’t a bad experience. “I think calling her that is spitting on every medical practice we have today.”

Strade shrugged and raised the woman’s head again. “Can I get your name again, _liebling_?”

She looked like she was considering arguing, but the fight seemed to have drained from her. “…Camille.”

“You’re still bleeding a little bit. Do you want me to try kissing it better?”

That made her glare, but only weakly. “Never.”

“Unfortunate.” He grabbed his knife again. He pulled the fabric of her shirt up from her skin and cut through it. He pushed it open and pressed the tip of the blade against her sternum. “I don’t think you thought you’d die today, did you? A different place, a different time…you would have been safe.”

Sano thought he was going to stab right through, based on the position of his arm and his grip on the handle, but all he did was slide the point down, cutting through the skin and leaving a lightly bleeding trail.

He hadn’t noticed until now, but Sano registered that this _really_ was a kink thing. Strade’s face was flushed a bit, his weapon hand was slightly unsteady, and his breathing was a a little uneven. He murmured something to Camille lowly, something in German, and drug the knife further down.

“Sick bastard,” she choked.

“Do you want me to put on a show for him? Did you ever consider dying while getting fucked? I know you hate me but…you wouldn’t have a choice.”

“Enough,” Sano said. He didn’t raise his voice, but it still came across clearly he wasn’t interested in watching whatever Strade was threatening. “I don’t have whatever kind of non-con kink you have in mind right now, and if you’re doing this for my sake, you’re going to have to keep your torture fetishes from showing all the way through it.”

Strade chuckled and kept up what he was doing. The knife’s point stopped when it reached Camille’s navel.

“You’re still doing it,” Sano said. “Cool off or just kill her.”

“ _Entschuldigung,”_ Strade said to her, not taking any time to reconsider his idea as he stabbed her in the stomach. The knife went in easily and she screamed. He twisted it and cut wider. She screeched loudly, her voice filling up the basement space for a few seconds before she fell silent. If she wasn’t dead yet, she would be very soon.

Strade stood up, arousal _extremely_ apparent by now, and pointed upstairs. “Go on.”

Sano sighed, eyes on the still, bloody body still tied up. “I hope I have the wrong idea here. Not the body. I’m not working with you if you _use_ that body right now.”

The first expression Sano was met with made him wonder why he waited for an explanation. The second suggested pure amusement. “That’s not fun unless they die _while_ —”

He regretted waiting for an explanation. “Forget I said anything. Just leave the body alone.” He turned to leave. “Don’t take too long. You need to take me home.”

“Help yourself to anything!”

It felt almost like a relief when the basement door shut behind him. He realized, as it did, that he’d forgotten his water, but it wouldn’t be worth going back down to get it.

The offer to help himself to _anything_ felt vaguely like a trap, but he wasn’t sure why. Strade owed it to him, cutting everything short because all Camille’s pained, desperate reactions did was fuel his libido.

_Who was he talking about, though?_ Sano wondered, opening the refrigerator to find something. There wasn’t much he would ever consider eating and he didn’t feel like food in the first place, so he grabbed a Gatorade and leaned against the counter as he opened it and took a drink.

When he took his glasses off, sight going a bit weird at first, he recalled leaving the case in the basement as well. He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead, then used one of the arms to hang his glasses on his shirt.

He thought about sitting in the living room until Strade was finished, but he stayed put at first.

What convinced him to move was the knowledge that there was someone else in the house. Strade didn’t live on his own, and whoever lived with him was upstairs. He liked to read and he would look innocent enough. His pondering led him to stand at the front door and look up at the second story. He almost went up, but he wasn’t going to start that kind of trouble.

The light upstairs was off now, but no one had gone _up_ to turn it off.

Sano couldn’t tell how long it had been when he heard the basement door open again. “My body disposal can be a bit unconventional sometimes,” Strade said, “and I’m not sure I trust you with my methods yet, so we’re going to have to wait on that one.”

“How much were you messing with her?” Sano asked. “You wouldn’t have let her go, would you?”

“She saw too much, but it’s fun to see how people react to that. They believe they _did_ have a chance at some point, and that seems naive to me.”

“Because you’re not stupid enough to let anyone go if they’ve seen your face in the first place.” He pushed himself up off the door, taking another drink of his Gatorade. “Akira says you’ve been at this too long to be careless. Why?”

Strade grinned at him. “I have my reasons.”

“We have an arrangement. You’re going to make it easier for me to get blood all over my hands. I want to know _your_ motivation. It has to be more than just a hobbyist thing. People don’t hobby-kill for years without getting caught.”

The brunet shrugged. “They might. But you’re right—it’s _not_ a hobbyist thing for me. It’s how I make my money.”

Sano quirked an eyebrow. “I take it that has nothing to do with the corpses.”

“In a way. I make my money by turning them _into_ corpses.”

“You’re a hitman.” There was no way to hide the flatness of the statement. He found that an impossible option.

“A hitman? No, that’s too much for me, and not as fun. Guess again.”

“Are we playing career day?”

“Akira warned me you were a bit dry.” He was back to grinning widely. “I’ll get right to the point. I make snuff porn.”

That was more believable, but more concerning than an occupation as a hitman. It didn’t scare Sano, only made him wonder how someone could find their way into that line of work.

“Snuff porn,” Sano repeated after a second.

The grin on Strade’s face suggested nothing good about him as a person. “Of course! I give the audience what they want.” His eyes went to the upper story when there was a thud, but his attention was easily brought back to Sano. “You can stay over if you’d like.”

Sano’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t want to come across as ungrateful for the help he was going to receive, but he had higher standards. “I want to go home.”

“Then you’d best call Akira. Unless you _really_ want to try getting what you want from me, in which case…”

Sighing, the younger man crossed his arms. “You’re not serious.”

Strade’s expression left many questions, but Sano asked none of them. “I could be. I think we could learn a lot about each other if you stay overnight.”

Sano wasn’t particularly interested in learning anything about the other. He didn’t _need_ to know much, and anything he wanted to know could be found out through Akira. The most interesting thing about Strade was how a cam killer could live so comfortably for so long without having the police breaking down the door.

“I’ll stay,” Sano agreed reluctantly. “Is there a guest room?”

“ _Ja,”_ Strade said, “but you can’t be going upstairs.”

The younger of the two let out a harsh huff and shook his head. “What is going _on_ here? Do you have some kind of animal living here who eats your corpses?”

“That’s for me to know. It’s more fun with you wondering.”

Sano didn’t want to stay any longer, but whatever was upstairs wasn’t a threat to him. He wasn’t fond of the secrecy, but he would tolerate what he must. He kept from asking more questions, but his eyes went back to the highest step of the stairwell he could see from where he stood.

“He won’t hurt you,” Strade assured him.

“I’m aware,” Sano said. “It just seems rude to keep overnight guests in the dark about certain things.”

Strade chuckled. “It’s dark _overnight_. That’s just how it is.”

The younger man sighed and took another drink. “Whatever. Where am I going to be sleeping?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> im procrastinating on the best novel idea ive ever had to write this. fuck


End file.
